


He always was a distraction

by GingerBreton



Series: The Theirins: The post-blight antics of King Alistair and Queen Ysabelle (here be fluff) [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, F/M, Fluff, Post-Blight, Romance, Teasing, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 03:56:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17338130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerBreton/pseuds/GingerBreton
Summary: One shot written for the tumblr kiss prompt - kissing with the intent to distractYsabelle is trying to enjoy her book.  Alistair has other ideas.Post-Blight King and Queen of Ferelden setting.





	He always was a distraction

The sun had gone down hours ago, leaving the library lit by little more than the glow from the fireplace and the occasional lamp, left alight in case of late-night visitors set to plunder the knowledge held by the thousands of books housed within. The glow of a guttering candle softy illuminated the alcove in which a figure sat curled upon the window seat. Rain splattered the leaded glass of the tall windows, the wind creeping its way through a cracked pane causing the candle to splutter, and forcing the enraptured reader to adjust position to better view her pages. 

Ysabelle heard him long before she saw him. Stealth had never been Alistair’s strong suit and even without plate armour, his steps lacked subtlety. She could tell from their hesitant nature that her husband was trying to move as quietly as possible. She decided to let him live the illusion of creeping up on her unawares a little longer, and continued with her reading. 

The book had only arrived that afternoon, and from the moment the package had been handed to her, she had stolen away to the library to bury herself in its pages. She delighted in the adventure and romance which conjured memories of her own escapades, only with less immediate risk of being stabbed. 

She could hear the fidgeting of her husband’s feet, he never had been able to keep still or silent for long. It was one of the reasons that, when her cousins brought their children to visit from Soldier’s Peak, the bairns adored playing hide and seek with their not-so-formal king, shrieking _‘found you uncle Alistair!’_ with absolute delight when he inevitably gave away his position. 

“It’s late, love. Come to bed,” a voice whined from the shadows.

“I wondered how long it would take you to give up. You’re getting better, my love,” she smiled and clutched the book tight to her chest. Despite the late hour her eyes were bright from the thrill of the tale, “I can’t come yet, it’s just getting good!”

“What could possibly be so good that it would prevent you taking me to bed? Let me see.” His eyebrow quirked skyward, a lopsided grin spreading across his lips. 

Five years of marriage and he still looked just like sweet young Warden she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. And didn’t he just know how to turn it to his advantage, treating her to the kind of looks that used to set her heart aflutter over the campfire. 

But Ysabelle was not so easily played, “Oh, I know you, Theirin. Look with your eyes, not your hands.” 

Five years of marriage had also taught her that he was thoroughly incapable of ‘just looking’ at anything. _Izzy, I just want to look at the puppies. I’m just going to see what the cake looks like._ And his favourite, whenever she was dressed for an event, _just let me look at you,_ which only ever resulted in them being late for whatever occasion they were supposed to attend. 

He reached down, trying to slip his hands around her waist, but she had always been quicker than him. Her hand was at his chest, pushing him gently but firmly away to arm’s length, tilting her head away to continue her perusal of the novel. He huffed, leaning a little more weight against her hand in the hopes she would relinquish her grip and allow him closer. 

“You know if I drop you, we’ll both go out the window, right?” She stubbornly remained facing away from him, but couldn’t help catching his reflection in the leaded windows, her armour of concentration beginning to crack. 

“You wouldn’t drop m—” She playfully removed her hand from his chest, causing him to topple forward momentarily before catching himself. The startled yip he let out leaving her in fits of giggles. 

He flopped down next to her, pouting like a petulant child in the face of her laughter, “I thought you were supposed to love me.”

“And I thought you knew I couldn’t resist a challenge.” 

It was a truth that had led to a good few of her scars, and a number of discussions with their former companions as to what counts as brave, and what counts as stupid. 

Izzy shuffled closer to him, appreciating his warmth as the fire had begun to die down, leaving a chill to settle over the expansive room. He draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close enough to rest his cheek on the top of her head. His breath ruffling her hair, which had been set loose from the courtly styles, falling in an untamed copper cascade down her back and sweeping shadows across her face as she continued to study the text. The only hint of disruption in her activities showing in the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

“Now, you just sit there, like a good king, while I finish my chapter,” she teased, trying to maintain her rapidly crumbling concentration. A feat she would only be capable of if she could keep her eyes from lingering on her husband. 

“Of course, my queen,” Alistair purred, a mischievous glint in his eye, “I’ll not make a sound.”

She was barely a third of a page further into her reading before a soft kiss landed on the top of her ear and began to track its way down. _So, this is your plan._ Determination held her steady for the moment. _You’ll not win this one, my love._ As her earlobe found its way to his lips, his breath tickling her neck, she suppressed a tremble and redoubled her concentration on the text that was so intent on eluding her. _Did I read this bit already?_

A satisfied shiver travelled through her shoulders at the feeling of warm lips dragging on her skin and the graze of stubble. _Oh, Maker._ His tongue deftly traced a pattern below her ear, his lips withdrawing momentarily just to blow freezing air onto the moistened skin. This time the tremor was irrepressible, leaving her heart beating so hard in her chest that she was sure he must hear it too. 

“That’s cheating,” she murmured, unable to stop herself tilting her head to allow the kisses to travel down her neck. Her mind was fogged, her resolve completely shattered. She couldn’t even make out the words on the page anymore, her focus barely a speck on the horizon, dwindling further as his fingers traced along her chin, coaxing her round to face him.

Five years of marriage and she still got lost in those eyes. So warm and gentle, that had seen such horrors and known such loss. That once had masked his pain with mirth, now incapable of hiding anything. They hypnotised her, rendered her incapable of thinking of anything but him. So many times she had looked into them before throwing herself into the jaws of death, willing to tear the world down around her if it would stop him suffering even a moment’s further pain. 

“You w—” 

His lips caught hers, hungry for the contact they had denied themselves, but never entirely regretting their games for it made the prize all that sweeter. She twisted awkwardly on the seat, desperate to envelope herself within his arms. She pulled herself into his lap, the book slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

There was a void where his lips once were. Hands that had been at her waist were now on her shoulders pushing her upright on his knee. For a moment her lips strained in a hopeless attempt to find his again, before she opened her eyes and fixed him with an indignant stare.

“I did win, didn’t I?” 

An impish grin spread across Alistair’s lips as he regarded the frustration written plainly on his wife’s face, took in the heavy rise and fall of her chest, revelled in the fading echo of the defeated book. 

In one smooth movement he stood, throwing Izzy over his shoulder like a particularly regal sack of potatoes. With a smack on her rear, which she of course reciprocated, he marched out of the library, her laughter echoing through the passageways, pealing louder than the midnight Chantry bells drifting up from the city below.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! That is the last of this round of prompts. Back to the long fic it is.
> 
> If you enjoyed Izzy and Alistair, then please feel free to take a look at my long fic, The Time For Vigilance Is Over, which features Isabelle and Alistair in their battle against the Blight.


End file.
